


Happy Birthday, Fenris!

by HeroMaggie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Loses a Bet, Fenders, Fenris Doesn't Like Clowns, Fenris has a vendetta against pinatas, Hawke is a dork, M/M, Obvious AU is Obvious, Obvious Smut Set up is Obvious, blow-jobs, modern setting...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Fenris' birthday and the gang is set to surprise him with cake and a pinata and singing...and Anders in a clown suit. Because Anders lost a bet. </p><p>Anders decides to head over early to just get the entire "wishing Fenris a Happy Birthday while in a clown suit" out of the way.</p><p>Exploding cake and smut happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Fenris!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaverikLoki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverikLoki/gifts).



> Don't look at me. This is all because of one post by Maverikloki. It sorta grew from there. 
> 
> I'm wondering if this is going to spawn some horribly silly Fenders bend where Anders and Fenris wear ridiculous outfits.

“But Varric…” Anders’ leg was shaking so hard under the table that Varric’s drink was jumping. “He’ll kill me.”

“Naw. Probably just brood harder. You lost the bet, you gotta pay up. And paying up means finding the outfit and bringing the cake. You can either do that or you can pay me every last cent you owe me from drinks and Wicked Grace night.” Varric leaned forward a hair. “I didn’t think Justice would let you renege on a bet, Blondie.”

“Crap. Fine. But we’re even if I do this.” Anders leg shook harder and he pressed down on it to stop the fidgeting.

“Deal.” Varric said, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. “Oh and Blondie? You have to stick around for the party in the outfit. No trying to weasel out of it.”

Anders just sighed a deep sigh and stood, “Yeah, Varric. Where’s the cake?”

“At the grocers at the corner. Tell them I sent you. It’s already paid for.” Varric leaned back in his chair. “Can’t wait to you see tonight.”

Anders flashed Varric the finger and slunk out of his rooms and down the stairs. He stood in the crowded bar area and watched Nora serve drinks and Corff listen to a sailor bemoan his problems. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out Justice babbling about how all this was nonsense and a distraction and that they could be out picketing the Chantry. “Shut. Up,” he muttered under his breath, stomping out of the Hanged Man and turning to stump down the street towards a local costume shop.

He might as well get this over with.

A few hours later and Anders was standing at the door to Fenris’ sad excuse for a mansion. He was wearing, Andraste’s pyre, a one-piece clown suit made of some horrid man-made fabric that managed to let in every breath of cold air but also hold in body heat so that he was both simultaneously cold and sweaty. The suit was a bit on the snug side – being the only one the store had in stock and made for somebody shorter. Out of desperation, Anders had not worn his jeans and t-shirt underneath and rather wished he had left off his smalls as they were currently doing their best to crawl up his ass.

The entire suit was tie-dyed. He’d never seen a tie-dyed clown, but as this was the only suit left in the whole store, he went with it. It included bright cherry-red shoes three lengths too long, fluffy puffballs over the buttons, and a fake nose that squeaked when poked. He had opted to not wear make-up – because there was no way he would ever get that white paste out of his scruff and because Varric hadn’t specified makeup. He also hadn't pulled on the wig. It was itchy.

The cake was large and decorated with little sugar bottles that represented booze. It was chocolate. It smelled pretty good. It had come with a trio of brightly colored balloons – all of them proclaiming “Happy Birthday!” in big, happy letters.

He didn’t want to go inside. He really didn’t. Fenris would never let him live this down and he already caught enough flak from the elf. Every moment spent in each others company was an exercise in gritted teeth and patience. Fenris had little patience for Anders or Anders’ cause and Anders had little patience for a cranky elf whose favorite past-time included threatening bodily harm upon his person.

Sucking in his breath, he opened the door to the mansion and let himself in. There was no point in knocking, Fenris wouldn’t answer. And if you didn’t belong here, well good luck getting away from Fenris.

Navigating the corpses and broken tiles in the clown shoes was an adventure – a slightly safer adventure than the ones he usually had that involved Fenris, but still a monumentally dangerous task. He managed to get up the stairs without dropping the cake or tripping – a feat of dexterity that had him mentally cheering before realizing he was about to confront Fenris while dressed as a clown.

He opened Fenris’ bedroom door, said a small prayer to the Maker, and walked in. “Happy Birthday Fenris!”

***

  
Fenris was drunk. This was a normal occurrence in the Fenris household. Each day brought about a new reason to plunder the wine cellar – mainly because Fenris was brooding over Danarius or a job Hawke had dragged him out on, or…well…it didn’t matter. The point was, he was drunk. Today’s drinking was a toast to his supposed natal day. Or what he assumed was his natal day. He frowned at the thought and took another swig of wine. No sense in brooding over whether if it was the wrong day to celebrate his birth.

His plans for the day included drinking at home and then staggering to the Hanged Man to drink there. If his friends were there, maybe some cards. Maybe poke at the Abomination some – because nothing made Fenris happier than prodding Anders – Anders was fun to poke at. Play some cards, drink some booze, get Anders all worked up, and then come home and sleep. It seemed like an excellent plan for his birthday.

He had just put the bottle back down, his eyes hazily taking in the fire, when a loud “Happy Birthday” was heard from his bedroom door. That was enough to have him jumping to his feet, instantly on alert. Seeing a clown holding a bunch of abhorently colored balloons took Fenris from flight and directly into fight.

He phased blue, his body hurtling across the room. There was a scream, the sound of balloons popping, the smell of cake as it smashed into the floor and splattered him, the demon-clown, and the nearest walls with icing. He had his hand around the offending creature’s neck and was about to divest it of its heart – if such horrible demon beasts had hearts – when he realized the fearful clown was, in fact, Anders.

“Oh Maker. Oh Maker,” the mage was babbling over and over, his hands pulling at Fenris’ wrist. “Fenris!”

“Mage?” Fenris pulled back, though he did not let Anders go. “What are you doing here? And why are you covered in cake? And dressed as a clown?”

“It was Varric’s fault. I lost a bet and this is what I had to do. If you’ll let me go I’ll just…flee in terror…and we can all pretend like this never happened.” Anders voice was a little reedy, possibly because Fenris had a death-grip on his neck. Fenris loosened his hand a bit and watched with interest as Anders inhaled sharply.

He let his eyes travel down the mage’s body, taking in the tacky too-tight costume. He blinked a bit at the very large shoes. He looked up in time to see the bright red nose fall from Anders’ face. It let out a sad little squeak as it hit the floor. “I dislike clowns.” He said shortly.

“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know,” Anders raised his hands in the universal sign for “don’t kill me” and shook. “Happy Birthday?” He exclaimed weakly.

Fenris sighed and let him go. “There is cake on my walls.”

“There’s cake in your hair,” Anders said, reaching forward and pulling a glob of icing from Fenris’ shoulder “And on your shirt. It sort of…exploded…when you attacked.”

“You have some on your face,” Fenris pointed, his finger almost touching the smear of frosting. He let his finger slide through the sugary substance, trying to wipe it off and only succeeding in smearing it more. Anders watched with some curiosity and some fear as Fenris regarded him with somber eyes and then shook his head.

Fenris’ shoulders were starting to shake, a rough sound working out of his throat. It was with some confusion and awe that Anders realized Fenris was laughing. “You look ridiculous,” Fenris choked.

“I…do not. Well yes I do but I put this on for you.” Anders said stiffly. “It was supposed to be a big surprise.”

“You lost a bet. And this was quite the surprise.” Fenris snickered. “That outfit is so tight it is nearly obscene.”

“It’s…not…” Anders looked down, realizing that yes, indeed, the outfit did show off more than he had anticipated. “Shit.”

“You are quite impressive,” Fenris swallowed another laugh. The alcohol buzz was still there, if slightly muted from the adrenalin. Surrounded by ruined cake and pieces of destroyed balloons, the mage in a most-ridiculous outfit, and booze singing in his blood, Fenris found it almost too much to handle. Later on he might decide that drinking five bottles of wine was what caused IT to happen, but for the moment he simply chortled, grabbed Anders by the neck, and pulled him down to lick frosting off his cheek. “Mm…chocolate. My favorite.”

Anders froze, uncertain exactly how to respond to this new development. Fenris tilted his head and licked another splot of frosting off of Anders’ chin. He licked his lips and regarded Anders again. He had to admit that when he wasn’t spouting his mage-rights propaganda, the Abomination was very attractive.

“Fenris?” Anders voice was tentative.

“That is my name, yes.” Fenris nodded as he drew Anders a hair closer.

“What are you...mph...” Anders was cut off as Fenris pressed his lips clumsily against Anders'.

***

  
Oh Maker, Fenris was kissing him. He tasted a bit like chocolate frosting, and he was a very clumsy kisser, a little slobbery. That didn’t bother Anders too much. Anders liked slightly slobbery. He just liked kissing in general. The fact that it was FENRIS kissing him was confusing, but he wasn’t going to say no. It had been a long time since he'd last been kissed...and this felt rather nice...

Maker no. He wasn’t going to turn Fenris AWAY. Just…maybe…interject some reality into the situation before Fenris realized he was kissing ANDERS and killed him. He pulled his lips away, arching his head back, “Fenris. You do know who I am, right? The mage? The Abomination?”

“Mm…you speak too much,” Fenris said, moving to tangle his fingers in Anders’ hair to pull him back into another kiss.

“But you hate me!” Anders sorta wailed, trying to be the sensible one. “Remember? Mages are evil? Yadda yadda yadda.”

“There is no yadda yadda yadda. Nor do I hate you. I dislike your constant proselytizing, but you as a person, I do not hate.” Fenris was regarding him closely, his hand rubbing lightly against Anders’ scalp.

“Er…but Justice?” Anders tried again.

“Is a complication we shall have to deal with,” Fenris said firmly. “Later.”

“Oh Maker,” Anders breathed right before Fenris went back to kissing him.

***

They ended up with Fenris leaning back against the chair,, his head thrown back, and eyes closed. Anders was on his knees. It was Fenris’ birthday and Anders had been pretty clear that birthdays meant blow jobs. Fenris’ leggings were down around his ankles, and Anders had kissed his way up Fenris’ beautiful legs and was currently doing things with his mouth that was mind-numbingly amazing. Fenris slid his hands into Anders’ hair and held on as Anders twirled his tongue and then took Fenris' entire length down his throat, Anders' hands kneading at Fenris' ass.

Fenris did not think he could hold on much longer. Which was a shame, he was really enjoying this. He did plan, however, to strip Anders out of that monstrous clown costume, smear him with what was left of the cake icing, and then lick it off of him. Slowly. Perhaps with another bottle of wine. But first, he wanted to finish in Anders' mouth.

This was turning out to be a better birthday idea than going and getting drunker at the Hanged Man.

He was right there on the cusp, his legs starting to shake and his lower back tingling. He was so close, the friction of Anders’ tongue driving him towards the ledge with every suck, when he heard the front door bang open and Hawke’s loud voice echo up the stairs, “Surprise!”

“I'm going to kill that man,” thought Fenris. There were the sounds of feet tromping through the downstairs foyer and then up the stairs. Hawke was singing, loudly, and it sounded like he had accompaniment. Fenris looked down at Anders and pushed him back, the sound of Hawke’s voice finally filtering and registering in Anders' brain. Anders let out a squeak and dove for the chair.

Fenris pulled up his pants with one swift move, managing to get them fastened just as his bedroom door was thrust open and Hawke strode through. He was waving a giant dog-shaped multicolored pinata on a stick. Merrill, Isabela, and Varric filtered in behind Hawke, all of them singing Happy Birthday loudly and off-key.

“Happy Birthday to YOUUUU!” Hawke warbled out the last note and shook the pinata at Fenris. Fenris blinked at Hawke, blinked at the pinata, activated his brands, and pulled the entire monstrosity apart with his hands.

Candy and confetti rained down in his room and added to the cake smears. Hawke blinked as Fenris growled, a low angry sound. “Right!” Said Hawke cheerfully. “We’ll continue this at the Hanged Man! We expect to see you there. We have...another pinata!” He turned abruptly and started pushing everybody out. “Happy Birthday, Fenris!” He yelled over his shoulder.

Fenris heard Varric ask, “Did you see Blondie? He was supposed to show up as a clown. I'm worried. There was cake all over the walls.”

“Varric, Fenris hates clowns. I hope for his sake Anders didn’t show up and that cake was from earlier.” Hawke replied. “Did you see how he made the pinata explode? Priceless.”

“I didn’t know, Hawke. I'm a little worried but...well I guess I’ll let Blondie off the hook this time.” Varric said, their voices disappearing as they left the mansion.

Anders slowly stood and started edging towards the bedroom door. Fenris watched him for a moment, “Where are you going?” He asked as he reached out and grabbed a hold of the horrible clown costume.

“Ahh…I thought…maybe you had come to your senses…” Anders babbled.

Fenris eyed the clown costume and pulled, hard, ripping the entire mess. “I did.”

“Oh…” Anders watched the ugly cloth join the rest of the birthday good will on the floor. “Oh!”

“I believe it’s my birthday,” Fenris said as he slammed his bedroom door closed and pushed Anders back towards his bed.

“Right! Happy Birthday!” Anders said on a laugh as he fell backwards onto the mattress. He waggled his eyebrows at Fenris, “Care for me to finish what I had started.”

Fenris’ response was to start pulling off his clothing. Much better than getting drunk at the Hanged Man, was Fenris’ last thought before Anders slid from the bed and returned to giving Fenris his birthday present.


End file.
